


Straight as a Corkscrew

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's at a bar, and wow, look at that hot babe right there! It's just a shame she's not, well, really female...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight as a Corkscrew

John took another sip of beer. He grinned at the room in general. He was more than a little buzzed, but tomorrow was his day off, so he could drink as much as he wanted to and then some. Besides, he was looking for someone to bring home, so he figured a bar wasn't the worst place to be.

There were a lot of hags in the bar. Middle-aged women with cigarette stained teeth and sadly sagging breasts desperately stuffed into push-up bras, winking and smiling at him from the bar. John took care not to meet their eye.

_Now, that's more like it._

Across the room, he saw a girl just headed for the old-fashioned jukebox, with long, dark hair falling over her shoulders and a tight little skirt showing off a particularly fine pair of legs. She put a coin in the jukebox and at her selection, it began playing – John grinned again – _Sex Bomb_ by Tom Jones.

She began swaying her hips – narrow hips, he noticed – in time with the music, looking over her shoulder as if looking for someone to dance with her. John couldn't see her face clearly, but he noticed she had high cheek bones and dark eyes – or maybe that was just the make-up. He loosened the top button in his shirt and headed over.

Now, John didn't have a thing for young girls. But a man, even a man of his age, couldn't help but notice that she was probably in her mid-twenties and the best looking bird in there. He figured he might as well go for it; she looked like she was looking for something, too.

Sidling up to her, he stopped a few feet off and looked at her. Damn fine legs, slim build, and an ass to kill for. She didn't look busty, but he figured with legs like that, she didn't have to be. Her hair was temptingly wavy; an image of his fingers entwined in that hair flashed quickly through his mind.

“Excuse me, ma'am, but can I buy you a drink?” John said, hitching on his most charming smile.

The girl froze, still leaning on the jukebox, when he spoke. She didn't turn around. “Um... I don't think so,” she said, sounding almost apologetic. And there was something... weird about her voice. Like it was too strained.

John frowned. “But you haven't even looked at me,” he said, playfully. “How do you know if you'll want me to buy you a drink?”

The girl gave a sound like a strangled laugh, but turned her head even further away. “I... saw you across the bar. I don't -”

“Then, would you care to dance?” John insisted, getting suspicious. Why didn't she turn around? He was more interested now, though not in her legs (not that he could take his eyes off them, or her ass).

“Uh, no, I'd rather not. Sorry.”

Now John was really interested. What kind of a woman said no like that? In New York? They certainly weren't that polite where he came from, which was two blocks away.

He stepped a little closer to her, noticing she was rather tall for a bird – even with her high heels (which gorgeously emphasized her legs in their tights, by the way). “You okay, ma'am?”

The girl suddenly stepped away from the jukebox, still with her back to John, and said, “I've got to go.” Then she whirled around and headed for the door, moving as fast as she could in the throng.

Now John was more than a little suspicious. He ran after her, catching up with her just outside the bar where she was about to disappear down the next alley.

“Hey!” John said, grabbing her wrist and stopping her. “I don't know what you're playing at, but I got a bad feeling about you, lady. Turn around and let's see some ID.”

The girl gave a sound like a whimper, but slowly turned around, eyes downcast and posture slumped. “Sir.”

John was about to demand she hand over her ID when something about her gave him pause. The hair; it was – it was a wig. A good one, but he could see it now he was so close. It was a wig, and the breasts? She didn't have any.

“Hey...”

Understanding began to dawn behind John's eyes. He quickly let go of the other's arm. “Uh... Sorry, ma'am – sir. Didn't mean to disturb you. Have a nice evening.”

Mortally embarrassed at having tried to pick up a trannie, John took half a step away – and then glimpsed something familiar under the fake bangs. A very familiar pair of brown eyes.

Frowning, he quickly stepped forward again and grasped the man's chin, tipping it up – and found himself staring into the eyes of Matt. Matt Farrell.

“Shit.”

John just stared. He'd just caught Matt in heels, skirt, tights and make-up – not to mention the wig and the hot tank top – and all the kid had to say for himself was shit?

“McClane, please don't freak out,” Matt said quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “I didn't know you were coming to this bar, I swear, and I didn't... I wasn't trying to pick you up! When I heard your voice I tried to -”

John laughed then; laughed loudly and heartily. Pick him up! John had been ready to jump the kid's bones; he'd been eyeing his ass and the kid was trying to justify himself?

“Relax, kid, I'm not mad,” John said, grinning sheepishly at the kid. “I just... I was ready to ask you to come home with me, you know? Shit, I just tried to pick up a man in drag! I usually spot them quicker than that.”

Matt grinned back. “I guess I'm just a master of disguise then, huh?”

“But, uh, where did you get the outfit?” John asked, looking the kid up and down. “This a new fashion, or your dirty little secret?”

Matt ducked his head, blushing. “It's, um, it's just something I do. I mean... people usually realize I'm a guy pretty quick, but the ones who like it, well...”

“They take you home?” John asked, cocking an eye-brow. “I mean, don't get me wrong, kid, you're smoking in that attire, it's just, you could make a better catch as yourself.”

Matt blushed again, but smiled timidly at John. “Really? Well, it's not like I have to. I just... like it.”

John smirked at the younger man. “I gathered as much. And as I said, you look hot.”

That brought a huge grin to Matt's face, and he cleared his throat. “So, um, you wanna continue the party, or...?”

John looked at the kid, considering. He really did look amazing in that attire, and the arousal that John had been harbouring all night for the mysterious girl, slowly stirred. Maybe he should just go with it; see where the night would lead.

Deciding he'd had nowhere near enough to drink, John placed a hand on the small of Matt's back and herded him back towards the bar. “I don't think we ever finished listening to that song.”

Matt frowned. “What song?”

“ _Sex Bomb_.”

***

It was one thing looking at a mysterious female, admiring her ass across the bar. It was quite another thing feeling that ass grind against his hips as they – well, they weren't dancing, by John's standards; they were just grinding in time to the music.

And it was another thing altogether feeling that ass giving him a hard-on when he knew said ass belonged to Matt, a young man whom John had saved on numerous occasions.

“Matt,” John said, feeling pleasantly drunk, “you're sure this is called dancing?”

Tom Jones was back on the jukebox and Matt was swaying around on his high heels, making other customers gape at them as he wriggled against John's body.

“Positive,” Matt said, “and you're doing great; just use your hands a little.”

“Use my hands? How?” John had a beer in one hand and was using the other to... well, he was trying to keep it from hitting anyone by accident.

“Here,” Matt offered, taking John's rampant hand and placing it on his own waist. “You hold on here, and I'll do most of the work.”

John could only groan as Matt pressed that gorgeous ass back into John's jeans, rolling his hips and making the older man desperately wish for a cold shower. And with that tight skirt, there was just no way Matt wouldn't notice.

The younger man slowed down a little, feeling John's hand pull him a little closer, then smiled. “You old pervert, you're getting off on this!” he laughed, still dancing. “On me, in drag -”

“Grinding your ass against my cock,” John countered, smirking drunkenly. “And if you tell me you're not enjoying it, then you're a lying little drag queen.”

They both laughed, but Matt bucked back harder, and took John's hand, sliding it down until it was resting on Matt's hip.

“Want to take me home? After, of course, you buy me that drink?” Matt said lightly, looking up at the older man over his shoulder.

John didn't need to think about it. He leaned down to breathe hotly over Matt's earlobe, then whispered, “What're you having?”

“Sex on the Beach.”

Matt got his drink, and then John pulled him outside and called a cab. He'd been watching – and feeling – Matt's ass too long to wait much longer.

Once inside John's apartment, Matt made to take off John's jacket, but the older man swathed his hands away. “Wig first,” he chuckled, fastening his hands in Matt's faux hair. “I don't want to ruin it when I get you undressed.”

Matt swallowed heavily. “I thought you liked it.”

“Oh, I don't mind it,” John said, carefully removing the piece and placing it on the nearest table, where it looked decidedly odd. “I just like you better without it.”

The wig was gone, and then John's jacket – and, as soon as Matt got his hands on it, his shirt. John was just opening his belt when Matt went off in search of the bedroom, poking his head in all the doors before he found the right one.

“You're not very neat, are you?” Matt asked, turning to look over his shoulder at John. Over that slender, pale shoulder where John wanted to run his fingers. And Matt was leaning his weight on one leg, his hip jutting out, ass thrust out. John swallowed against his dry throat.

“I mean, you really shouldn't leave your socks lying on the floor like this. In case you get company,” Matt said, grinning. He was about to take off his tank top, but John stopped him.

“Somehow, I don't think my company minds tonight,” John said, licking his lips. “And leave it on. I want to see you take it off, slowly.”

Matt blushed a little, but moved into the bedroom. John followed close behind, letting his hand press warmly against Matt's shoulder. The skin there felt like velvet, no exaggeration.

“Okay.”

John removed his jeans, then sat down on the bed in his shorts. Matt stood in front of him, seemingly uncertain, but the boy grasped the hem of his top and pulled it over his head – slowly.

John smiled hungrily at him. “Atta boy.”

Matt grinned, dropping the top to the floor. Then he slowly slid the zip in his skirt down, holding it in place. “All off?”

John nodded dumbly as the skirt fell to reveal the most incredible lingerie; black stockings and panties that looked like silk. The older man found himself wanting to touch them and find out.

“You really do look great in drag, Matt,” he rasped, licking his lips again.

“Thanks, I guess,” Matt said, smiling a little. He toed off his shoes – those gorgeous high heels – then put his right foot up on the bed and rolled the stocking down, slowly.

John groaned, but kept his hands to himself. When the boy switched and gave the left leg the same treatment, he couldn't help but reach out and lightly touch the waistline of Matt's panties, feeling the fabric. It was silk, alright.

“Victoria's Secret,” Matt warned, “so don't tear them.”

John chuckled, but left the panties alone. “You take 'em off, then. So I don't tear anything.”

Matt took them off, and stood in the middle of John's bedroom bare naked. Looking a little embarrassed, for that matter. “Um. Well?”

“Get on the bed, kid,” John said, eagerly removing his own shorts. “How do we do this?”

“You fuck me, unless you want to be deflowered by a hacker kid,” Matt laughed. “I'm guessing, since you asked, you haven't been with a guy before?”

John nodded, then turned them over so he was leaning over Matt, the younger man on his back. “Kissed one, back in my youth. That's about it.”

Matt grinned. “Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. John McClane, uncertain of his sexual orientation? I don't think so.”

“I wouldn't be so sure, kid; I'm in bed with a drag queen, aren't I?”

Matt gave a snort of laughter, but grabbed both sides of John's head and pulled the older man down to kiss him. He opened his mouth eagerly, inviting John's slick tongue to take control of his own mouth. John pressed his full weight down on Matt, kissing him back with intense fervour.

“Mm... McClane,” Matt said, gasping a little as John's teeth went straight for his earlobe. If the aim was to arouse Matt, then it was highly effective. “You got any lube?”

John's face reappeared over Matt, frowning. “Um... will lotion do? Or, maybe, olive oil? I think I got some in the kitchen...”

Matt laughed. “Let's just go for the lotion.”

John actually had to leave the bed to find the lotion – in the adjoining bathroom; of course, the man only had one jar in his entire flat – and when he returned, Matt hadn't moved save for getting a little more comfortable on the pillows.

“You really need to get some proper lube,” Matt stated, winking at the other man. “And keep it near the bed.”

John looked interested. “Does that mean this will be a regular occurrence?”

Matt bit his lip, smiling at the same time. “Yes, please.”

The older man quickly climbed back on the bed, and Matt spread his legs, giving John full access to his body.

“Just put some lotion on your dick, and then some on me,” Matt instructed, sounding breathless. “Uh, on my ass.”

John did as he was told with a hungry growl. “That's all?”

“For me it is,” Matt laughed. “I'm pretty good at taking it right away.”

That produced a desperate groan from the detective, who quickly threw the lotion to the floor and moved closer to Matt. “Ready?”

Matt spread his legs wider, placing his hands on John's shoulders. “Go.”

With a husky chuckle, John pushed slowly past the tight ring of muscle, steadying himself with one hand. “Eager.”

Matt moaned as soon as he felt the hard flesh press against his entrance. He loved this; the first burn as a cock slid inside him and then boiling down to nothing but pleasure. His fingers dug into John's shoulders and his brow furrowed. “Ungh... John!”

“Fuck, kid!” John gritted out, sliding all the way home. “You always this tight?”

Matt could only whimper in reply. He tried hooking his legs around the older man's waist, but just then John remembered what used to drive Holly wild and hooked his elbows under Matt's knees, keeping them bent and Matt nearly double-folded.

“John!” he hissed. “Fuck, John, hard?”

John slid back a little, then thrust back in. Rocking experimentally back and forth a few times, he quickly got used to the feeling of the boy beneath him, and quickened his pace. “What... how do you...?”

“You just fuck me,” Matt panted, “and I... do the rest.” He grabbed his own erection and began stroking quickly; the detective was already grunting and closing his eyes and Matt figured it wouldn't last long.

“Matt,” John groaned, pushing in hard. The younger man let out a shout of pleasure and bucked against the older man. “Matt, fuck, I'm so close...”

“Do it,” Matt begged, stroking himself. He didn't need much; he was so close, just a little more... “Let go. Please.”

John buried his face in the kid's neck; panting into the pale skin, he fucked Matt into the bedspread as he came hard. “Matt!”

Matt gave a low, breathy whimper as he felt John spill inside him; so good and he...

“Fuck!” he cried, head thrown back against the pillows as he came, spending himself over his hand and stomach.

John was about to pull out of Matt when the boy stopped him. “Easy. Do it slowly.”

“What? This hurts?” John asked, still panting. He slowly pulled out, watching Matt's face for signs of discomfort, then laid down beside him.

“Good. Your first gay fuck,” Matt grinned, as sweaty and spent as the other man. “How does it feel?”

“I'm too straight for a gay fuck. I don't think I got it right; we might have to do it again,” John said, then began shifting around so he could pull the covers up over them.

“Nah, you were fine,” Matt said, yawning. “But practice makes perfect. Let's have another round tomorrow.”

But John was already snoring lightly.

Matt laughed. For an apparently bisexual man, John was very straight sometimes.


End file.
